Obvious exits:
West <W> leads to Plains - Route 11: Wheat and Rice.
East <E> leads to Field and Streams - Route 11: Farmlands.

Streetwind arrives from Plains - Route 11: Wheat and Rice.
Streetwind has arrived.

Heavy rain pours from dark grey clouds, propelled by a furious east wind. In the forest, gusts of wind tear through the tree limbs and howl around rocks. While at the coast, the grey ocean lashes at the coast angrily as the summer storm pelts the waves.

It's the definitive soaking wet day outside. Rain pummels the mud as it pours from the grey clouds. There seems to be no end in sight; it has been raining all day long, and will likely continue all through the night. The paths around route 11 - both the human's route and the smaller beaten path that leads to the secret Assisi Barn - are long rows of mud and muck, as is the soil beneath the healthy fruit trees of the nearby orchard. What crazy fire type would dare head out into weather such as this? A particularly hungry one, apparently. Sploshing his way down the path is an adult Growlithe by the name of Peppy, his fur totally soaked, the tuft of hair on his forehead sagging over his eyes and obscuring his sight. His pace is about a notch up from a crawl, so slow a Caterpie could pass him with ease. Periodically he pauses for a moment, paws sinking deeply into the mud as he raises his head, sending the waterlogged bunch of white fur back and away from the area right in front of his face. He sniffs once, twice, quickly scans the area, and continues his walk, tuft once more resuming its annoying position in front of his eyes.

Watt? July already? You must be 'lion! Bingo! (Saving!)

What a day! A day for the trash bin if there ever was one. Rain! Yuck! Go away, it hurts! But no amount of whining and complaining can change the weather. It just rains. On and on. And on. And it's definitely only raining to make one certain fire pokemon even more miserably than she already is. It must be.

Mother Nature, apparently annoyed that one of the pokemon of the island dare try to venture out into this weather, kicks the weather up a notch. The chilling winds from the east pick up a notch, slamming drop after drop of even-more-chilling water into Peppy's side. No matter how extra fluffy the poor pup may be, it's not enough to serve as resistance to weather such as this, so with a "Grrrrowli!" of shock, Peppy's Slowpoke-esque walk fires into a full fledged sprint... ... well, perhaps not full fledged, as the muddy ground serves as terribly difficult terrain to run across, and Peppy's paws slip and slide all over the place. Through some miracle he manages to stay on all four paws as he makes his way towards the closest tree, however, shelter he can just barely make out through the rain getting in his eyes and the bobbling tuft getting in his way. Even as he approaches the tree (which, through some fortunate or unfortunate coincidence happens to be the same one Streetwind is resting under), he realizes just how blurry it is, and how little he can make out of any one particular detail. And if Peppy can't fully make out a tree, he stands absolutely no chance of recognizing a form so small as a Streetwind. He charges up under the shelter, kicking up mud and muck all over the place as he does, panting and gasping loudly. Subtle thou art not.

Watt? July already? You must be 'lion! Bingo! (Saving!)

The heap of wet, sand-white fur that is Streetwind has been lying in the same place for a while now, and has been relatively calm. It has been breathing; and on occasion, when a gush of rain hit it, it has been shivering for a moment or two. But all in all, the Ninetales had been trying to move as little as possible, so as to catch as little rain as possible. But now Peppy comes waltzing in quite soundly, and mud and water flies through the air. Mud and water, hitting poor Streetwind from totally unexpected directions! And he's certainly sounding like an army of starved Arcanines, too! And Streetwind develops sudden, if unusual activity - the nose disappears, the fur dome shrinks somewhat as the firefox curls up tighter. And then starts trembling uncontrollably. Please, whatever is there, make it go away, without finding me.

Watt? July already? You must be 'lion! Bingo! (Saving!)

Ah! Freedom from the onslaught of rain! It's no cozy warm barn or anything, but a little salvation from it is better than none at all. Further continuing to entirely ignore Streetwind's presence, Peppy wuffs a grumbly "Grr-lithe!" as he grips the soil with his paws, stretching his limbs as wide as they will go, and shake-shake-shaking briskly, flinging water and mud all over the place. Because Peppy's fur absorbs water like a sponge, it takes an extra long shake-down on the Growlithe's part, and will therefore result in a longer shower for poor Streetwind unless she somehow distracts him from drying off. Supposing Streetwind hasn't finally lost her nerve and revealed her presence to him, Peppy will continue grumbling little inane comments to himself, quiet (but still more than loud enough for the poor serene Ninetales to hear) little <Man, when will this rain stop?> and <I really hate rain...> that serve no purpose whatsoever except to allow Peppy to hear his own voice. Though his vision is decisively less blurry now that he's found shelter, he still hasn't noticed Streetwind, if only because he's peering out into the storm, tail waggling back and forth nervously, or looking down at the ground, pondering what to do.

Heavy rain pours from dark grey clouds, propelled by a furious east wind.

Oh, Streetwind isn't doing anything to alert Peppy of her presence. She's actually trying to do as little as possible! And, as it seems, it's working quite well. Even though she's being showered by even more water. Yes, it works. She's invisible! No, she doesn't want to know who is there. The pokemon outside started uttering coherent words, but she doesn't listen to them, doesn't make an attempt to identify who or what sits there, next to her invisible self. It could notice her. That would be really bad. Yet, despite all her determination to remain silent, her subconsciousness has its own agendas, and Streetwind already started to whimper faintly and piteously, totally unnoticed by her conscious mind.

The whimpering probably isn't what gives Streetwind away. The raindrops drilling into the ground and leaves are loud, and some tiny squeaking isn't going to mean much to a pokemon who's busy talking to himself. It could be her scent carried on the wind, or perhaps just a glimpse of something white out of the corner of his eye, but whatever the case, Peppy eventually locks his eyes on a giant fuzz ball, curled up not too far away from him. He quickly directs his head back out to the storm, though now he is know longer thinking about how he's going to hunt in weather like this; he's considering whether or not he should speak to the ball of fluff. What if the pokemon is sleeping? It would be mean to disturb it. But what if it's injured? Then Peppy should speak to it and find out as soon as possible! But then, what if it gets really angry for annoying it? Or what if it's all a big trick by a Katerwaul and it's a trap? ... But Peppy, the one with the attention span of a month old puppy, is already starting to get lonely, and before he even realizes it, he's opened his mouth. <Um... hi there!> he woofs, slowly turning his head in Streetwind's direction. <... Pretty wet out, huh?> Idle conversation is not Peppy's forte.

Watt? July already? You must be 'lion! Bingo! (Saving!)

Over and over, the Ninetales chants her mental mantra. All is good, all is good, all is... ack! Streetwind nearly jumps, even though she is lying curled up. Nothing is good! It's speaking! To who? To her? Has it seen her? But that's not possible! It must be talking to something else! But she didn't hear anything else... then it /did/ notice her! Oh no, the world is really going to end today... And even though that sounds somewhat silly, that's exactly how Streetwind feels. An irrational fear has taken place in her head for the time being, and her body resumes trembling and shivering with double intensity. Her whimpering also becomes much more audible. And somehow, she tries to find a means to get /away/ from whatever is there, and that without having to uncurl. That is her last defense, she can't give it up! So, what she does looks like a mix of trying to curl up even tighter, pressing herself against the tree, and trying to dig herself into the ground.

No reply. Peppy's "alert!" meter kicks up a notch, and his tail's wagging pace slows down slightly. She's moving and curling, but not replying. What if she really is injured, too injured to speak? About to die? For as often as he likes to kill Rattatas and Pidgeys, Peppy would be mortified to know that he caused the death of a non-dinner pokemon, and so he takes a step in Streetwind's direction, gulping audibly. <S... sir? Or, um, ma'am?> he woofs timidly, raising his neck slightly to try and get a better look at her. All he sees is a curled up ball of fuzz, but there's no sign of blood around her or on her fur... that's a good thing, right? <Are, um, are you, uh, okay? Like, um, if you're just tired, um, I just want to know, but if you're really hurt or about to die or something then I want to help, though I'm really sorry to bug you if you're not hurt and I can go away if you want, I just wanted to make sure.> At any one point Streetwind can choose to interrupt or otherwise do something drastic enough to cut Peppy's nervous rambling off, in which case he'll drop to a peep and not make another sound. His anxiety is evident in his tone of voice as he speaks, and his limbs shake and shiver slightly.

Watt? July already? You must be 'lion! Bingo! (Saving!)

The rush of panic came like a tidalwave, and leaves just as quickly. Streetwind is still scared, but Peppy's meek, gentle words start to pierce the ignorance-is-bliss mentality that the Ninetales has been following up to now. They even have their desired effect - they calm her somewhat. Though Peppy surely meant to calm possible anger instead of fear, it still works. The trembling subsides more and more over the course of maybe ten to fifteen long seconds, and the firefox's next movements are much more controlled. She uncurls somewhat and scrambles up against the tree, where she takes on a position that could be interpretated as sitting, although she still tries to make herself as small as possible. All nine long tails tightly wrapped around her body, hunched over, with only her head remaining uncovered. Her ears are pressed against her head in submission, and she warily eyes Peppy, not showing any sign of recognition. Aside from the occasional whimper, she still remains silent.

Streetwind may not recognize Peppy, but you can bet Peppy recognizes Streetwind. The way his jaw drops, the way his eyes widen, and the way his entire posture stiffens kind of give him away. Peppy's chattery banter fumbles into a mass of babbling noises when he first sets eyes on the Ninetales's visage, a face he'd recognize everywhere. This is not quite what he expected when he awakened the giant ball of fuzz. When he can finally manage to snap his jaw shut, he gulps audibly, a shiver running down his spine. Strands of fur across his entire body stand straight on end as he takes a step backwards, mind racing to think of something - anything - to say. He did not quite expect to see so familiar (and unfortunately unforgettable) a face on a dark and stormy night such as this. He'll continue to remain in this paralyze form until Streetwind does something that isn't staring at him and blinking now and then. For all she knows, he's just scared that she's bigger than him.

Watt? July already? You must be 'lion! Bingo! (Saving!)

For all Streetwind knows, Peppy is... simply blocking possible places to run to. It is standing in the middle of the protected area. Streetwind is pressing against the tree. So, if it is hostile, she has to hide... behind the tree. In the rain. That's bad. Please don't attack me. Please don't attack me. Please don't attack me... A few seconds pass. It does... something. It doesn't attack her, though. Streetwind continues eyeing Peppy, half in fear, half in distrust. It must be plotting something. She still hasn't bothered to even occupy one synapse with trying to remember who that Growlithe is, or even to establish that it is a Growlithe. It doesn't matter to her. It just means a possible danger. It must go away, quickly. Maybe if she tells it to go away, it will. But... she can't find the courage to issue an order to it right now. So instead, when she eventually opens her muzzle, a question comes out. <What... what do you want...?> It sounds awfully meek.

Now, this is something rather unexpected. She looks like Streetwind. She sounds like Streetwind. She smells like Streetwind, what little trace of her scent he can catch in the furious wind. But from what Peppy remembers of Streetwind (and considering Peppy's terrible sense of memory, that's a surprising lot), she certainly isn't acting like it. Either Peppy's found Streetwind's long lost twin sister, or he's entirely incorrect in his assumptions that this is who he thinks he is. Even Peppy isn't so naive that he doesn't realize that's more likely than not the answer. The Growlithe settles down slightly, his ears flattening against his scalp as he peers at the Ninetales not with fright or anxiety, but with... curiosity. His mind burns with a thousand questions, all of which should result in her telling him whether or not she is Streetwind, and yet Peppy can ask only one. And so, after a short silence, the pup opens his mouth and asks, with some slight courage, <... Who are you?>

Watt? July already? You must be 'lion! Bingo! (Saving!)

A thousand questions. A whole thousand. That's further than any pokemon can count, even Streetwind who often bragged about being oh-so-intelligent. One thousand questions, and he picks this one. The one question that she cannot answer. Not anymore. <I...> she automatically begins to answer, but then stops. There's nothing she can say. She has turned the subject, exactly this subject, in her mind over and over, for a whole month. There's nothing she can say. Nothing to answer this question. Nothing. <...I...> The Ninetales slumps down to the ground, and once again proceeds to curl up into a ball. After a moment, her voice makes its way to the outside, faint and muffled by fur. <...I... he... killed me...>

And poor Peppy has absolutely no idea what to make of the Ninetales's reply. Peppy never was very good at figuring things out, of course, and this is no exception. His mind races with countless more questions, most of them all revolving around wondering the most vital one: "Is this Streetwind?" There are some other thoughts floating about: who is he? Why did he kill her? Is she a ghost pokemon who just looks like a Ninetales? Is this a trap after all? Despite the questions burning on the tip of his tongue, Peppy finds himself unable to speak at all when he sees the sad Ninetales all curled up, her voice so timid and soft.... so different than the Ninetales he remembers, if this is the one. A shiver rips up the Growlithe's spine once again, his breathing rate getting faster and louder. He has no predictions for what she'll say next, how she'll react, what he himself should do. He wants to just run home and call it quits for hunting for the day... but Peppy never was one to fend off guilt easily. <Are...> he woofs softly, taking one small step forward, his paw sinking into the mud as he leans forward. He's afraid to continue speaking. <... Are you... okay?>

Heavy rain pours from dark grey clouds, propelled by a furious east wind.

Watt? July already? You must be 'lion! Bingo! (Saving!)

That question seems to trigger something in the Ninetales' head. For a few seconds, she ceases to move, she doesn't even breathe. But then, in an exploding, lightning-fast movement, she scrambles onto all fours. Her eyes are burning with rage, and she shouts at the top of her lungs. <Okay? Okay?! Do I look okay to you?! Nothing is okay...! Nothing... Nothing...> Her voice trails off on repeating that last word. The look in her eyes shifts, and the anger that was there a moment ago is replaced by blank, unspeakable panic. In a flash, almost as fast as she stood up just seconds ago, the firefox is on the ground - once again, curled up and trembling uncontrollably. Though this time, she is not afraid of Peppy. It's something else, and it's worse. She pants heavily, and desperately repeats one single word, the panic rendering her voice nearly ununderstandable. <Help...!>

Whoa! Peppy almost has a heart attack. Taking in a sharp gasp of air, Peppy dives backward a step, eyes as wide as plates, every muscle in his body shaking and wobbling. His breathing becomes downright uncontrollable, short, raspy sounds of inhaling and exhaling rapidly, and he crouches slightly, cowering before the Ninetales like he just saw a ghost. Never before has he felt so shocked, so horrified, so thoroughly scared, and he's met up with Katerwauls on three separate occasions. It's moments after Streetwind finishes screaming and plops back on the ground that Peppy can finally summon up the nerve to speak, and even then it's only a quiet whimper, almost a squeak. "... Li..." is all he can manage before he resumes shivering like a cold Chihuahua. No doubt under all that fur he's still a ghastly pale white. And she expects help.

Watt? July already? You must be 'lion! Bingo! (Saving!)

Eventually, Streetwind calms down. It takes considerably longer this time, though: until her breath is normal again and her shivering subsides, multiple minutes pass. That under the circumstance that Peppy doesn't say anything that could make Streetwind better, or worse. After this long time, she finally uncurls again, although she remains lying on the ground, and she's not facing Peppy. Instead, the Ninetales adopts a somewhat normal, if tense, position on her belly, with her head resting on her forepaws. Peppy gets a good view at her this way, maybe for the first time since months. Streetwind doesn't look good. If Peppy could remember all the occasions he met Streetwind, he could probably take a good guess: Streetwind's physical health seems very much connected to her mental state. Which is obviously not in balance right now. And summarily, the firefox looks as if she barely ate enough to survive over the last weeks.

The clouds darken further, rain drenching the landscape as evening approaches.

And Peppy is definitely not silent. He doesn't say anything, no, but he breathes so loudly and so quickly that it's audible over the constant pitter patter of the rain, and here and there his teeth chatter together, whether through the chill of the night or of his recent fright. When Streetwind finally repositions herself, Peppy does get that good look... and no matter how different she's acting and sounding, there's no way in the world she could be anybody but Streetwind. And as the realization sinks in, it's almost comforting to eliminate all but one possible scenario. No longer is there the impending thought that this isn't Streetwind, or that this is a trap. He shakes his head slightly as he builds up his courage once again. Swallowing sharply, he looks up at the branches, still too uncomfortable to look straight at her while he speaks. <You... um, you don't remember me, do you?> He regrets it the moment he says it.

Watt? July already? You must be 'lion! Bingo! (Saving!)

Does she... remember him? Is she supposed to know him? That thought seems new to the Ninetales. And it's certainly occupying a part of her attention for a while. She grows less tense, her flattened ears un-flatten just a tiny bit, and she raises her head a few inches in thought. Is she supposed to know him? Maybe. Considering how he asks that, likely. She turns her head to look at Peppy - for the first time today with the intention of recognizing him. Her orange eyes wander over his body. He is... he is... a... Growlithe. Good. Calm now, what was his name? What was... his name...? Seconds pass. Streetwind continues looking straight at Peppy. She doesn't say a thing, but something surely happens. A hint first, then steadily growing stronger, an emotion creeps into her gaze... despair. And panic.

When Streetwind doesn't reply after a few moments, Peppy brings his head down, locking his eyes to hers once again. He peers right back without much passion, though there's a fire burning inside. Bit by bit he's growing a little more angry in his spirit. An apology he could accept. Even a devious grin or a snarl he could tolerate. But to know that she did something so horrible, betrayed him, stabbed him in the back so malevolently... and then forgot all about him? That's something Peppy can't see himself standing for. He's too wrapped up in his thoughts to notice Streetwind's subtle changes, if this Growlithe was perceptive enough to have been able to recognize them anyway. His paw grip the mud as he clenches his teeth tightly together, though he doesn't make a move. Perhaps if she eventually show some signs of recognition, he'll settle himself back.

The last light in the west begins to fail, heralding a stormy night.

So Peppy doesn't see Streetwind's returning panic, but that ignorance is mutual: the Ninetales herself is so absorbed that she doesn't realize Peppy's anger. And he does her wrong, too! She's trying, she's so desperately trying! She has to remember something! But the more she thinks, the more blank her mind grows, it is as if the answers she is looking for are purposefully evading her grasp. She doesn't understand one bit. One thing she is absolutely sure of: she has never forgotten anything before... And all of a sudden, another wave of panic takes over, and the firefox is, once again, curled up into a large, damp fuzz ball. Complete with trembling and whimpering. <I don't know... I don't know... what's happening to me... why can't I remember...? What's happening...?>

Watt? July already? You must be 'lion! Bingo! (Saving!)

Streetwind's admission is only that final straw breaking the camel's back. Stamping his paws one by one into the ground -hard-, marching one step towards Streetwind, the Growlithe plants himself in the mud, gripping it as best as he can. The timid, squeaky little Peppy has vanished, leaving in its place a fiery-eyed snarling beast. <You don't know?!> he explodes, tensing up very tightly, bushy tail stiffening. For all his anger, he is doing his very best to keep himself under control, and is partially succeeding - there's too much sadness and disappointment inside of him to be 100% enraged. <What do you mean, you... can't remember? You can't remember what you did to me? What you could have done, what you almost did? Tell me, Streetwind,> he barks, stating her name for the first time. He's trembling slightly now, and his voice is already fading bit by bit, losing the angry tint he could only keep up for a couple moments. <How could you forget something like... -that-?>

Watt? July already? You must be 'lion! Bingo! (Saving!)

Peppy's words hit the Ninetales like a whip, and she twitches under every single one of them as if they actually were one. It is true, she knows it. She couldn't forget that. She couldn't possible forget. Then why... why doesn't she remember? Why doesn't it work? She couldn't possibly forget, so it must still be there, the knowledge, but why doesn't it work? <I don't know... I don't understand... help me... it doesn't let me... it doesn't... what's happening... I can't... I can't...> With every word, Streetwind's voice grows less steady, and sobs start mixing into the breaks between the words. It doesn't take long, and the firefox is crying bitterly. She has never felt so lost before, so alone. Her mind had always been there for her to hold on to. She had never felt alone because she could think... but now, nothing is working anymore. Streetwind doesn't understand, not at all.

Wailing wind blows rain through the darkness.

Heavy rain drenches you in the dark as it falls from grey-black clouds, driven by a howling east wind.

Poor Peppy. What is he supposed to do? He wants to get mad, so enraged he goes off and finishes this Ninetales off once and for all, negating any further threat that he's been fearing ever since the barn was scorched. But even as he stands there overlooking her, he feels that anger dissipating with the wind, replacing itself with disappointment and bitterness and... unfortunately, above all, pity, the emotion the Growlithe wants least at this point. Peppy tenses and growls, sighs, relaxes, tenses, snarls, growls, relaxes, and goes on unable to make up his mind on how he feels for a good half minute or so. All the while he watches her. He has to do something. He has to say something. He needs t-<Don't you remember?> he feels himself saying, though he doesn't even seem to realize it. <The barn? The burning? My puppies, and Aurora, and Navarone, and... how can you forget something like that? You can't, it's impossible!> Were it not so cold this evening, Peppy would be able to feel the heat rising in his cheeks, rising in his eyes. His fur blows about in the wind, though he ignores it as he stares at Streetwind, shaking his head slowly. <What happened to you?>

Watt? July already? You must be 'lion! Bingo! (Saving!)

No, she doesn't remember. She takes every word that Peppy throws at her, every clue, ever name, and frantically tries to remember /anything/, be it even so small and unimportant. But it doesn't work. There she lies, on the muddy ground, in the rain, and cries just more. While Peppy stands next to her, throwing words at her that have no meaning to her. They should, but they don't have. None of them. No- stop. All of a sudden, all of Streetwinds actions come to a full stop, much like earlier, when she snapped for a second. Even her crying is cut off in the middle of a sob. And then she uncurls, and stares at Peppy. Not in anger, not in panic, but in sudden realization. One word, one name, is burning in her mind, fills it out completely, from one end to the other. One name. The only name. The only meaning that is left. <He...!> She gets up on all fours, quickly, but without the frantic haste she displayed earlier. She looks left, right, turns around, as if searching for something... someone. And that someone is not Peppy. <He... he killed me... he took it... he took my mind! I must find him!> And without further ado, she runs off. Just like that. Peppy is forgotten, the encounter forgotten. Maybe she will remember it later on, if she ever remembers anything again. But for now, only one name burns in her mind. With grim determination, she knows: she must find him. Even if it's the last thing she ever does. He who killed her. He who took her mind.

Navarone.

Why isn't anything Peppy says striking any emotion in the Ninetales's face? Why isn't she butting in, saying she remembers something, saying she recalls the event, saying she's so sorry for driving Peppy through that trauma and oh goodness will he ever forgive her? And then one word does snap her to attention, and Peppy only realizes it's Navarone after she says "<He>". Who else could it be? <What?> Peppy woofs in reply, his voice irritable, his face scrunching up in confusion. <He took... wait!> And she's off before Peppy can do a thing, sprinting off into the rain, leaving the poor soggy dog to himself. <Get back-..!> He dashes off after her two paces, three paces, and watches her vanish into the night. His teeth clench together tightly, baring them in Streetwind's direction, eyes narrowing more and more until he whiplashes his head up to the sky, howling at the clouds with all of his pent up aggression, anger, desperation, confusion, passion, everything the encounter with Streetwind left him with. The howl carries on for an indefinite amount of time - for all Peppy knows, it was half a minute, or it was an hour, or it was all night. After his last cry is out and he can't howl any longer, he drops his head back down to normal level, gives Streetwind's direction one last growl, and spins around in the mud, stomping along the mucky path all the way back to home.